The large laser’s beam slashed a huge gash in the BattleMaster’s rear armor but failed to breach it. The twin medium lasers followed up on that damage, widening the gash and vaporizing armor. The reddish beams filled the center of the assault ’Mech with fire and Nelson saw internal structures melt in the backglow. He waited for secondary explosions or even a little shudder, showing he’d done serious damage, but got nothing.
The BattleMaster never even made an attempt at turning around to face him. The two rear-facing lasers oriented on the Phoenix Hawk and returned fire. One bubbled away armor on the Phoenix Hawk’s right thigh, reducing its protection by a third. The other beam drilled into the Phoenix Hawk’s left breast and carved a crescent scar into its armor.
Heat swirled up through the cockpit and sweat beaded on Nelson’s exposed flesh. Between jumping and triggering three weapons, he’d pushed the heat up to sixty percent of maximum capacity. His crosshairs started tracking poorly and he knew that his movement had been cut down. If I don’t get out of here, though, I’ll have more problems than roasting to death.
As the BattleMaster started to come around, Nelson hit the jump jets and launched himself skyward. Despite the added heat rushing up into his cockpit, he pushed the burn and sailed over the BattleMaster’s head and on into the woods. He cut the jets and braced himself for a rough landing.
He came down hard. Trees snapped in half and toppled over, but somehow he managed to keep the ’Mech upright. The snow that had laden the tree branches sheeted down over him, but he knew it would give him no cover. The heat did begin to head back down into green ranges, which meant he had his mobility back. And I’m going to have to use that as best I can.
The whole situation resolved itself very quickly and easily in his mind. He was playing for time. If his reinforcements intercepted the Locusts, Anti-Nick would break things off and retreat. Survival was the key and the further along he could draw the BattleMaster, the greater the chances that the reinforcements would put an end to him once and for all.
There was no question in Nelson’s mind that he was playing a very dangerous game. Reaching out with his left hand, he punched up a geographical survey map of the area on his auxiliary monitor and his sensors painted the oncoming BattleMaster onto it. Nelson kicked the Phoenix Hawk into motion, drawing his enemy away from Harrison and up into the mountains.
They entered into an absurd cat and mouse contest. Nelson risked the PPC by staying at longer ranges, but that kept him free of damage from the missiles and smaller weapons. His large laser did light up the woods, burning holes through the pine canopy. Rarely hit his foe, but often enough he lit a tree on fire. If nothing else it will be easy for them to find us.
The BattleMaster kept coming and as the minutes piled one on another, Nelson began to believe he might actually survive. He tried to call out to Bronson, but the mountains broke up radio transmissions. This he really didn’t mind because it also meant his foe couldn’t inflict couplets on him. He had to wonder about his foe and his odd Christmas tradition of shooting and looting to celebrate the holiday. It must make sense to him.
Nelson realized he didn’t want to know how it made sense.
He continued to duck and dodge and retreat halfway up into the mountains when he discovered he’d made a tactical error. His retreat had taken him into a narrow draw with sheer sides. While one jump could carry him to a plateau on the south side, another would not be enough to get him out. He was also certain the BattleMaster’s pilot wasn’t going to let him jump behind him again for another shot at his back. By the time he discovered his mistake, he was too far in to get back out, and the BattleMaster appeared to seal the entrance and his fate.
“You can’t run. You can’t hide. Now this battle, we’ll decide.” The BattleMaster advanced slowly, coming straight up the middle of the draw. “Bad you’re not. Take your best shot.”
A million thoughts flashed through Nelson’s mind. He could shoot, and might get lucky, but the odds were against it. Memories of exercises, of winter drills on Tharkad, of watching children play in snow and even the long treks he’d taken on skis across glaciers came to him. If I had that hangar door, I might be able to snowboard right past that monster, just the way kids used to escape parents on holiday.
Something sparked in the back of his mind, so he hit the jump jets and soared to the plateau. He landed and turned around, his ’Mech’s left shoulder striking the rock wall behind him. Nelson looked down, and began to track his crosshair toward the BattleMaster, which had resumed its advance. Clean shot. So tempting, but this isn’t a day to give into temptation.
“Nice escape try, but why? Even so high, you’re just going to die.”
Nelson shook his head. “Why the poetry? It’s horrible.”
Mock surprise ran through Nick’s voice. “I thought it was festive. And it’s not that bad.”
“Yes, it is. Just like your aim.”
“Let’s hear you do better.”
“Hear, no.” Nelson shifted his aim point and raised the ’Mech’s large laser. “See, you bet.”
Nelson triggered the weapon and slashed the beam right to left, up through the darkness. Its verdant light illuminated the low grey clouds so heavily laden with snow. It pierced them and vanished, vaporized snowflakes drifting back up to condense again and fall.
“How cute, how quaint, a signal light. But there will be no help for you tonight.” The BattleMaster’s PPC came up and the charging coils began to glow. “On that ledge, you have an edge, but one
